Arkham Heritage
by HazenHead
Summary: All hope is lost. Crime has fallen, but tension is getting even stronger as the time passes. Mutual comprehension must be acquired before everything that Batman once held dear falls into the chasm of damnation.
1. Prelude to Madness

Fear has always been something subjective. There are those who fear the most stupid and superficial things you can find on Earth. Others may be scared of death and its dark claws that lead to nowhere but the hidden void. And last, but not least, there are those who fear bats.

It was midnight and the moon did not shine, as expected of such nocturnal event. The bridge that connected the now peaceful and once great city to the house of maniacs was no longer decadent – much by the contrary, it has been redeveloped from the precarious state of yore to a more formal structure. This time, it did not tremble when the cars and trucks crossed its road by the side of the stacked snow. Winter was already there.

The gate that led to the front yard of Arkham was open, but very well guarded. From four towers – two outside and two inside of the asylum, guards of different characteristics were positioned, guns pointed towards whatever they considered dangerous. On the road of the bridge that connected to the asylum, was Aaron Cash, followed by three more guards. He couldn't help but feel unconfortable due to the snowflakes that fell slowly on his forehead.

As the trucks and cars stationed inside of the asylum's yard, standing right in front of the enormous building with gothic thematic labelled as "Intensive Treatment", their doors opened. The smell that came out of it became one with the already present stinky aura. Out of it, and swiftly, the known faces came. First, the Riddler, trembling uncontroled in his green rags as a response to the extreme cold of the winter. After him, with a face full of scars and marks, a grey beard that was a display of his age and an eyepatch in his right eye, came Slade Wilson, the Deathstroke. And then, finally, the old politician, Harvey Dent, destroyed in his spirit and disavowed by half of his own body. The handcuffs in their arms was tight. _Good,_ Cash thought. _They deserve it more than anyone._ Actually, Cash thought they deserved it even more than Joker himself.

He may be gone, but a legacy crafted right inside the walls of Arkham could span millenia. Maybe even last eternity.

Cash looked to the top of one of the guard towers. Up high, kneeling, was Robin, covered in black robes and a dark red armor, plus a face concealed by the shadow of the hood and the dark mask. One nodded to each other. It was some sort of relief to Cash's heart. He could never forgive himself for what happened… The city, lying in ruins, was the birthplace of his own fall. Aaron had to make up for it.

The security guards conducted the three inmates through the steel door that opened automatically, and made them walk through the corridor where a calamity took place some years ago.

– Is that all? – Cash asked to the cop nearby, looking for an answer in desperation.

– Yes, Comissioner Cash. That's the last… uhm… let's say, shipment of inmates. – The young man serving as a guard replied. It made Aaron's heart feel a bit down. _How could someone s_ _o_ _young accept to be here, in this place of all?_

– Thanks. That's what I wanted to… – The great steel gate with the words "Arkham Asylum" carved upon it was being closed remotely due to a console operated in the towers. Suddenly, the act was cut in half, and the gate became wide again. – …know… – Much to Aaron's surprise, another truck came through, occupying the rest of space left by the already present vehicle. Behind it, three more police cars with sirens lightning the ambient in blue and red. – What the hell is that thing? And why is it here?

– Maybe I forgot sir… But there is one more inmate.

– Who? – Desperation could be heard in Cash's solemn voice.

– Jonathan Crane…

 _I can't be._ Cash's senses started to go numb. With no exit to the situation on sight, Aaron said: – He was supposed to be dead! – Denial reigned supreme in his mind.

– Indeed he was. – Claimed the elderly voice behind him. In a matter of second, Cash turned his gaze upon the now mayor of Gotham. James Gordon stood in front of the poilice comissioner, bringing his black suit in his body. The mustache didn't change – not even a little bit. His gray hair, however, was disappearing little by little. – Long time no see, right mister Cash?

– Yeah, right. – As response to Gordon's greeting, both shook their hands. Aaron could feel his own sweat in the midst of the cold palms that faced his own.

Both turned their sight to the line of guards that brought Scarecrow, covered in a straightjacket. The hood was lowered and the mask removed. The vision was grotesque, and made Cash want to puke right in the old and mossy floors of Arkham. Half a dozen guards accompained Crane to the inside of the Asylum, facing the now open door that revelead the corridor in the interior. Gordon made a sign with his hand, showing Cash the way he already knew in the tip of the tongue.

Some would describe Arkham as a hospital; others, as a prison. But if Gordon and Cash agreed on something, it was that, in fact, Arkham was the embodiment of the depths of Hell itself. It made Aaron chill just to be wondering through those halls, covered in walls of stone and steel, with little to no natural illumination extending its reaches to the madhouse.

– You agreed with me when I said Sacrecrow was supposed to be long gone… – Started Cash, while walking with Gordon in the main entrance to the Intensive Treatment section. Right in front of them, six guards armed to the teeth with Crane led the way. – So how is he alive right now?

– It has been what? Three months since the Batman disappeared? – Cash nodded in confirmation. – So, you see, we had to keep things under control. People were still scared of what might come. We had to exorcise such fear of their hearts with all of our strenghts. That's when we told them that we had executed Scarecrow.

– It has been some time since I became the Police Comissioner. I had to have previous knowledge of a situation like this. – Aaron could feel the drops of spit coming out of his mouth while his heart pulseted in a fast pattern. Maybe Scarecrow had won, as the fear seemed to be eternal.

– The decision wasn't mine. It belonged to the government. – Continued Gordon, fixing the positioning of his glasses while still following the prisoner and its captors in front of them. They took the elevetor first – one which was pretty simple, and it lowered itself to something like one meter and a half below – and then, it returned to the mayor and the comissioner. – As much as I opposed the idea, I had to carry on with it. I'm really sorry, Cash.

– Nah, no need to be sorry. – Answered Aaron, informally. – I understand it now.

The guards, alongside the impotent and former doctor, passed under the control center of the Intensive Treatment area in a narrow corridor. The scanner analised any possible threats and, when it had the answer, displayed a blue light which indicated the abscense of any malicious objects, while ignoring the guards weapons. As soon as Scarecrow and his "escort team" left the corridor, Gordon and Cash had to wait for a while when the scanner examined their bodies.

Cash had been through such proccess many times, but this one was specially terrific. The fear he felt when Scarecrow grasped Gotham in his own claws was greater than the one the corrupted his mind and body when Killer Croc ripped his left hand off. And the trauma was being revived.

As soon as they were released, both the mayor and the comissioner followed the escort team to the holding cells. There, only five cells were present. All of them were locked with an eletric barrier, and no prisoners were rotting inside. From a high point of view, some sort of personal chamber, there was a set of windows, with glass as transparent as the most purified water. Standing there, Gordon and Cash saw as the guards let Crane on his foot right in the middle of holding cells area. Then, out of nowhere, the lights were gone. Darkness took place not only of Aaron's heart, but of the environment as well. Suddenly, a flash of white light was shown from ceiling, illuminating with a circle the exact place where Scarecrow was.

From the bottom of his scared mind, Cash could tell that, through the dark, Crane was able to pierce right through his eyes. And that's what he did. His empty face, despite being a display of tragedy and tirany, was the reason Cash felt really scared. _Even after all these years..._

His feelings were being proccessed with easiness, blocking his rational way of thinking in the matter at hand. Then, everything finally made sense.

– Don't tell me that…

– Yes. – When Gordon interrupted Cash's statement with an almost silent vocal tone… – His time has come. And look: the bastard isn't scared at all.

It was like if Cash was being impaled. For such a monster like Crane to finally accept his damnation… Does it mean that he had been redemeed? That he really aimed for redemption? _This isn't right,_ he mumbled to himself on his own mind.

– Look, this isn't how HE would do things.

– Well, HE is no longer with us. – Replied Gordon, seemingly reckless. The men kept staring at each other, no word prophetized.

– But I am. – The soft yet harsh voice that came from the utter and complete darkness was easily acknowledged; it broke the sound of silence, after all. Revealing himself, Robin had his body hidden by his cloak. – I recognize the fact that you are our mayor, mister Gordon, but…

– Skip the formalities, Timothy. – Gordon spoke his words softly. – There is no time for that.

– Awaiting your orders, sir. – One random security guard said such words without regret. _It was something to be afraid of,_ Aaron thought. _As we condemn some monsters… others are born._

From his place of standing, Cash could trace the voice to one of the corners of the holding cells, engulfed in darkness. That was when Tim's expression became seriously worried. He raised his hands and tried to reach Gordon, but it was too late.

– Do your job, lads. – The mayor said with no remorse. – You know what is necessary.

Scarecrow laughed with no control over his voice. It was miserable to say the least. When the first bullet met his body, the cry was an infernal psalm. Then, the second; followed by the third and, finally, the fourth, which ended his life.

– What… What've you done, Jim? – Perplexed with the actions of an old friend, Cash felt as if time had stopped.

– I have done my job. Now, be a good man and do yours as well. – His voice expressed no emotions at all. It was cold. An exposure of the lack of hope. Gordon turned his back to Cash and Tim, only to leave the room and follow his way into the unknown and unpredictable future.

When their gaze turned to the holding cells seen through the glass, the guards were dragging Crane's body while it left a blood trace on the floor. _I have failed my city,_ Cash thought. In a matter of seconds, everyone had left, only Cash and Tim remained. In the immense darkness, only they remained.


	2. Return to Old Roots

The snow did not stop for the following days. The newspaper in Gordon's desk displayed the execution of Scarecrow, with pictures taken by an infiltrated reporter within the ranks of the security officers. _Damn you, Ryder,_ thought James while smoking his cigar and leading the palm of the hand to his forehead.

The wooden desk of his little office had no adornments at all. In fact, it was pretty simple. Behind Gordon's desk, an imense window that covered the entire side of the wall, revealing the unending streets and people of Gotham through its glass. The lights of the city were ignited. The night took place once more.

It was a terrible headache, the one that stormed Jim's mind. He considered the idea of reading a book of his shelf, or maybe even turning on the television as a past-time activity, but it would only make his condition even worse. As soon as the notebook screen in front of him displayed a message from one of his personal guards, Gordon's attention was caught.

 _We caught her,_ read Gordon with care and attention. _She says there is a_ _n_ _important matter to discuss._ When he felt the sweat coursing through his lungs, even in a cold environment like that, he started to write his reply: _send her in._

It didn't take long for the snow to pile itself on the exterior edge of the window. It also didn't take long for Selina Kyle to enter the mayor's office with her hands tied behind her back. Gordon made a signal with his hand, ordering the guard who brought her to unbind her. He was brute, and with a sharp and shining knife cut off the binds of her. After removing himself from the office, the guard closed the door. Once it was done, Catwoman beacme silent, only looking at her wrists with care. Finally, she examined the place, corner by corner - she even noticed the ventilation duct above the bookshelf.

– You say it's important… – Commenced Gordon, still sitting on his stuffed chair. – But I highly doubt it. – The mayor layed the cigarette on the ashtray without taking his eyes off of Selina.

– Am I allowed to spit it out? – Selina said, while standing with the back agains the wall. The same old black leather uniform was present, but this time, it was under a coat. Its hood was lowered, revealing her short and straight hair which, strangely, wasn't accompanied by the hat with the cat ears.

– Be my guest.

– So… Do you have a newspaper? Oh, there's it. Perfect!

Gordon stood patiently as the woman in front of him skipped pages and pegas of the newspaper. His anger was starting to spread itself throughout his stressed mind, and he knew that, when he last expected, his chains would be broken. _How many time do I have before I break? Also, how many time do I have before I die?_

– Take a look at this man. – She said quickly, pointing to the amateur picture in which a hooded man, coming in direction to the camera, wore a mask and, on his chest, displayed something rather unique. – Look, I know the photo is blurry, okay? But this _is_ the batsymbol, I'm sure of it.

– Where do you plan to reach? – Now, the mayor's patience was growing thin. He feared that a vein might pop out sooner or later.

– The description seems to be fit with Bruce's… Batman's point of views with one exception: this man who calls himself "Red Hood" kills with no remorse. Maybe, _just maybe,_ he has some ties or knowledge regarding the Bat and then we…

– I don't have time for this. – He said solenmly, with a low vocal tone, taking his eyes away from her. He felt grief. As if something had fallen upon his head. Batman was absent, and it was taking a toll. – We don't need Batman any longer.

– Yes, we do. – Crossing her arms, Selina made a voice that sounded like that of a naive commander. – Look, if you don't want to help me, that's ok, but I am going after this man, want you or not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave.

– Hey, before you leave… – As Catwoman approached the door, she turned to face Gordon once more. – Why did you come to me of all to talk about this?

– Because I was sure you would help me. – Just like Gordon, Selina was cold in her last sentence. – But I guess I was wrong.

Catwoman laid her hand on the door's handle, then stopped for a moment. Gordon stood silently on his chair, hands on the table. While trying to avoid Gordon's menacing eyes, Selina was ready to open the door when suddenly…

– Where do you think you're going? – He asked blatantly.

– I'm getting out of here. Any objections?

– Just one. – Gordon pronounced. – I cannot allow you to roam free through the streets of our city. Safety must come first.

The look on Selina's face was astonishing. It was clear that, through her eyes, she felt as if she'd been deceived. _And you were._ Gordon raised from the chair, adjusting his formal tie and trying to reach the thief. The menace that he represented to Selina was clearer than ever.

– Please, I don't want to make things even worse. – Instead of emotionless, Gordon's voice was, as of now, sad. His perplexion said the same. – Turn yourself in as a bounty for everything you've done.

– You want safety brought back to our city… Yet you condemn a possible ally?

– He's a terrorist. – Selina was amused to see James's reaction to her actions when she revelaed her bolas to him.

– And maybe I'm a terrorist too. – Smiling, she had thrown the bolas while aiming for the glass window. Gordon was slightly nervous, but nothing could be greater than the fear he had felt during his daughter's disappearence.

Less than one second after evading the bolas, they hit the glass window, shattering it into pieces and causing a rumble that could tear apart heavens. And then, like a flash, Catwoman ran right in front of him, jumping over the desk and finally throwing herself into the nothingness below. Thunderstruck, Gordon had his back glued to the wall.

She seemed to be gone.

 _At least, I hope s_ _o._


End file.
